Impostors
by lifeluver
Summary: 5 Vignettes for the Barney/Robin relationship.


When she got the call that Ted has been in an accident Robin sprung into action. She leaped from her seat and dashed towards the door, shoving people out of her way as she went. She tried to swallow her tears as her mind raced to all the possible conclusions.

He was in a coma.

He was brain-dead.

He was actually dead.

While she stared impatiently out the cab window she thought of all the things she wanted to tell him if he made it through this.

I love you.

I'm sorry.

You're an idiot.

I love you.

And when she met up with Marshall and Lily by the entrance to the hospital and exploded through the doors with newfound determination she considered all the things she planned to do to him when she saw him, no matter what state he was in.

Hug him.

Slap him.

Kiss him.

And when they finally burst through his door to see him eating Jell-o with a stupid smile her brain breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Everything was going to be okay.

All the things left unsaid could remain that way; Ted wasn't going anywhere. All was right with the world.

"Barney's been in an accident."

Her mind went blank. Ted was explaining what had happened, ghostly pale but she didn't react.

Lily's eyes went wide and welled with tears but Robin didn't move to comfort her.

Marshall ran out the door to try to find out where Barney was, but Robin didn't offer to help him.

Instead she stood there, in the middle of the hospital room, frozen and empty as the world raced around her.

There was no fear, no crying, no bargaining. It was as though her brain has taken a vacation, evacuated the premise and left her body to deal with the aftermath.

Barney.

Bus.

Crash.

The words echoed in the all too small hospital room, closing in, smothering her. She refused to process them, refused to acknowledge their implications, even as they smashed up against her like waves during a storm.

Suddenly there was a hand on the small of her back, guiding her forwards, away from the persistent words and emotions clawing their way towards her. It was Lily, who despite her tears attempted a reassuring smile.

Ted and Marshall were pushing their way through the crowded hospital halls, urgently searching for their friend. Robin followed dully, unsure of where they were headed or why they should.

Barney.

Crash.

Everything was white. White lab coats, gray walls, pale faces. There was no color anywhere. Just white. Empty.

Crash.

Dead.

Lily was talking to her, or more accurately, talking to herself. She kept repeating the same words: "He's going to be okay, he's going to be okay."

Dead.

Alone.

Marshall let out a hiccuping sob in front of her. Ted didn't make a noise. Lily sniffled. Time stood still. Everyone had stopped in front of a door, but no one entered the room.

Crash.

Dead.

Alone.

Empty.

The meaningless words had caught up to her, weighing down on her, and she felt she might collapse. She had to leave, had to keep running, had to escape.

She opened the door.

Barney Stinson looked up at her. Almost his entire body was encased with white plaster but his blue eyes sparkled and his cheeks flushed pink with excitement and he opened his mouth and said, "About time you guys joined the party!"

Slowly, shamefully Robin's brain crept back into her body. Barney was alive. Ted was alive. Everything was normal again.

All things left unsaid could remain that way.

xxxXXXxxx

"Barney and I went to a strip club."

Robin's head snapped to attention. Her eyes shot towards her boyfriend (boyfriend, still sounded so strange, even in her head) but he was busy chastising Marshall for giving him away.

Barney had gone to a strip club. And he didn't want her to know about it.

Why the hell not? It's not like she would be squeamish about strip clubs. She'd been to hundreds. Most of them with Barney.

So why wouldn't he tell her?

When Stacy, the camerawoman at Metro News 1 had caught her husband going to a strip club for his brother's bachelor party she made him sleep on the couch for a week. Then he'd gotten a back spasm and was stuck lying on the floor waiting for her to come home for hours. When she'd finally arrived home she gave him one look and said calmly, "That's what you get for looking at other women."

That's how women reacted when they found out their spouse has "betrayed" them. She'd seen it in movies and in real life. But she wouldn't have cared. She would've even offered to come with. After all, he enjoyed it and some of those women really were hot.

So why did he hide it from her?

Did he think that she would've reacted like Stacy had? But that wasn't her. She wouldn't care if Barney wanted to have some fun on his downtime. It's not like she didn't "accidentally" drop her pen and observe the goods on her newest intern once a week. (Okay, every day.)

He thought she would be mad at him. It was the only conclusion that made any sense, and yet, it didn't. She wasn't a "Stacy," and he should know that. Or was she?

Is that what they decided when they said they would become "boyfriend and girlfriend" the other week? When did faking it become the real thing? (Heh, whaddup?) Is this what they were supposed to do now?

They must be waiting for her reaction. Marshall had dropped a bombshell and this was the aftermath. Barney was still glaring at Marshall from the corner of his eye.

Stacy's voice echoed in her ear. Boyfriend goes to strip club. Boyfriend tries to hide it. Girlfriend gets mad.

That's what happened. It had played out countless times in countless variations. It's the same basic formula.

And if that's what they were now, if they were really boyfriend and girlfriend, isn't that what she was supposed to do?

Barney was afraid of her reaction. That's why he didn't tell her. He expected her to get angry. He thought that she was a "Stacy." But when did they stop being Barnman and Robin and become every other generic couple on the planet? When did he start lying to her and sneaking off to strip clubs?

"Robin's not mad, are you Robin?"

He was avoiding her eyes. He lied. He hid it. 2+2=4. If he added them there was only one possible outcome.

"I am mad."

That night she tore up the tickets she had bought to the Lusty Leopard Thanksgiving dinner.

After all, it was what he expected.

xxxXXXxxx

Charles Sherbatsky was a tall, intimidating figure. His dark eyes were stormy with fury as he glared at his child before him.

Robin cowered in his presence. Her entire body seemed to shrink when his eyes bored into her skull. He was angry.

Finally his shoulders sagged and he sighed resignedly. Robin snuck a glance at him and quickly averted her eyes. She had never seen her father look so...defeated.

"I think it's time you go stay with your mother," he said quietly, looking at a spot on the wall somewhere above her right shoulder.

"What?" she squeaked, mentally berating herself for sounding so pathetic.

"You-I think you would be better off with her now." Her father rarely spoke of her free-spirited, impulsive mother, but when he did it was never in a positive, 'this would be a good role model for my teenage child' sort of way.

"Why?" Robin whispered. She knew why, though. He had caught her with Brett. He had seen her kissing him, messily, urgently. And now he couldn't bear to look at her.

She was not the boy that he had wanted. She could never measure up to who he wanted her to be. She was never as fast in the hockey games, never as loud at the parties, never as perfect as he wanted her to be.

She never could live up to his expectations.

So she ran away. She went to live with her mother, who turned out to be an awesome role model if the only other person you could compare her to was Britney Spears. If she couldn't be a boy she would just escape the expectations altogether and go to the opposite end of the spectrum. She became the girliest girl she could, with her bedazzled jean jackets and her insipid hit song. As long as there were no expectations she couldn't fail, and no one would be disappointed in her.

Except suddenly there were thousands, nay, tens of thousands of people who looked up to her. People who belted along to that insipid song, and looked forward to her next album.

So the night when she took the stage after a rousing rendition of "Let's Go to the Mall," a clenching fear enveloped her stomach as she opened her mouth to debut her newest material. This time she allowed it to be personal, a reflection of her own painful heartbreak. She sang her heart out, put her soul into the words she would only years later recognize as melodramatic and slightly hilarious and awaited the reaction.

The crowd was silent. There were no claps, they all just stared blankly at her.

This wasn't Robin Sparkles, she could feel them thinking, their eyes piercing her like thousands of tiny bullets. This was a fake. And she couldn't even argue with them. She wasn't Robin Sparkles. She was a fake.

Then someone yelled for an encore of "Let's Go to the Mall."

Her new album barely sold ten thousand copies. No one wanted to listen to her heartbreak.

They expected million dollar smiles, and dancing robots, and odes to malls from her.

And she couldn't deliver that to them.

So she ran away. All the way to the United States where no one would know her, no one could possibly expect anything of her.

She searched for work as a TV News reporter. After two weeks of fruitless interviews she received a call from CNN offering her the chance to intern for one of their pundits. It was an amazing opportunity, with a huge chance of climbing the ladder and eventually taking the reigns. They promised that she had great potential, and they had high hopes for her.

The same day she was offered a job at an obscure network, Metro News 1 and she immediately accepted.

As long as no one expected anything of her, she couldn't fail.

When Ted Mosby looked at her he saw a future. Not her future, not their future, but his future. A future full of children, white picket fences, and game nights with Lily and Marshall.

When Ted Mosby looked at her he saw "The One."

But she didn't know how to be "The One." She wasn't even fully sure what "The One" was. He had never been particularly clear about that. She did know, however, that she would never measure up.

Repeatedly she shot him down, pushed him away, tried to squash her own feelings.

He would just end up disappointed. There was no way she could ever measure up to what he had built up in his head. It wasn't possible.

But he was so persistent, and he looked at her in that way, that way that made her believe, however fleetingly, in unconditional love.

For the first time in almost ten years, she let herself try to succeed.

And she failed.

She didn't want kids in Argentina.

Ted had wasted a year of his life, of his search for the perfect woman on her. And she had let him. He wandered aimlessly for a while, promising her he didn't blame her for how it had all played out. But Robin knew better.

But Marshall and Lily expected them to be happy at their wedding and Ted didn't want to let them down. So Robin put on her happy face and pretended for a few weeks and managed to hold the act together. Just long enough for it to all fall apart.

When Barney and her embarked on whatever the hell it was they were doing, Robin justified to herself that it would all be okay. After all, it was Barney. He wasn't looking for "The One." He just had a crush on her and they knew would be awesome together. He wouldn't expect anything from her.

And as long as there were no expectations, she couldn't fail.


End file.
